


If I Move On

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: Battle Creek Unrelated [4]
Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Desk Sex, Dubcon Kissing, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kiss could have been just a kiss, but a moment of weakness and loneliness meant a kiss could be so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Move On

**Author's Note:**

> So I injured myself pretty bad three weeks ago and until yesterday wasn't allowed to do anything with my hand. BUT now I can type a bit? So the first thing I did was write as much porny battle creek as I could before it became too uncomfortable. Ugh so yess this shall have short chapters but heeey you all will get to see about when you'll be getting nice long stuff again!
> 
> this will mostly be sex. weirdly spaced. bit of angst. not much?

* * *

* * *

His breath caught, then broke in a soft groan and Russ pushed at Milt, titling his head back as if he could get more air that way. Get free of the drowning presence that was Agent Milton Chamberlain, shake his brain free of the haze caused by the mouth whispering across his neck. Not a _chance_.

His scent washed over him, tugging him down into the waves of him, into the wash of sensation – into the tide of _them_ , the pull of _this_. And Russ was _losing_ , with every touch, every fragile kiss; the hard plains of his body pressed to Russ, the curl of his arm locked tight against his spine, the sweep of blunt fingers down his neck, scratching through his three day beard- sending his nerves singing, even as Milt silence his words, licking into his mouth and kissing Russell until he was a moment away from clutching back. He was hard, fighting to keep from pressing against him, Milt’s thumb on his jaw, stroking across it. It was inevitable, the collapse of Russ’s will, of his own integrity; like a rusted hull, he gave in, caved against Milt- collapsed into him, hands sliding under his suit, seeking skin as he turned his face up to him with a noise of pure frustration.

He could cave, but he could be pissed about it. It was Milt’s fault. It was his stupid face, and his perfect mouth.

The arm hooked around his spine slid lower, stroking heat into his bones before Milt hooked both hands under his thighs and hauled him up, spinning him around and slamming him down on the desk.

_Fuck that’s hot_ , Russ thought in a daze, grasping at him, shoving himself up on and elbow to grab that irritating – likely expensive- blue tie, and yank Milt down by it. His startled expression was worth it. Russ snorted as he wrapped the fabric around his hand.

“Don’t be thinking you’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

“You have plans for me, Russ?” Milt’s voice was husky, his face flushed. It was almost irritating how much that _worked_ for Russ. He settled on tugging the FBI agent in carefully, catching his lips with equal care.

“Yeah, Milt, I do,” Russ breathed, after a moment.


End file.
